


archer's paradox

by andibeth82



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel 616, Young Avengers
Genre: Gen, Slow Build, Team Dynamics, The best way to be a superhero is to be in love with your rival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 03:56:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5114948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andibeth82/pseuds/andibeth82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how Kate Bishop, current other better Hawkeye, meets Barney Barton, former Hawkeye, current codename Ronin: over three dollar beers at Clint’s apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	archer's paradox

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geckoholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/gifts).



> There’s no MCU in here per your request; everything is based in 616 canon -- though I did kind of mix some Hawkeye comic history together. This ended up being a little bit Fraction with a dash of Young Avengers, some Blindspot, and a touch of general 616 verse, so I hope you’re okay with all of that and still enjoy!
> 
> _**archer's paradox:** "the effect produced by an arrow flexing as it leaves the bow."_

As far as Kate’s concerned, New York is a terrible place for superheroes.

For one, the city is entirely too populated to do anything useful without hurting unsuspecting pedestrians or buildings, both things that are liable to incur thousands of dollars thanks to damage and insurance policies. For another, Avengers be damned, there are too many costumed people flying around at one time, not enough crimes in one day, and most of them end up unintentionally stepping on each other’s toes. Take, for example, the marksman who’s decided to encroach on not only her skillset but also her name (and, whatever, he’s an Avenger apparently and Kate’s only a _Young_ Avenger, but that means nothing and _anyway_ , she’s totally a better shot.)

“Anyone with half a brain can throw a vibranium shield, shoot a gun, or make a metal suit,” Kate grumbles to America as she clocks in at the diner. The gaudy, 50’s themed establishment is the less attractive part of her superhero gig, but hey, Kate needs to eat, and so she sucks it up. “And he just _has_ to pick up a bow and arrow.” She punctuates the complaint with a glare at the foreign tourist who slides onto the bar stool, casually letting his eyes travel to where she knows her short skirt rides up her thighs.

“Maybe he’s just jealous of your costume,” America suggests, fiddling with the coffee maker. Kate sits on that one for a bit, because, well. She’s willing to forgive the fact this other guy is trying so hard, if only because that darn purple cowl was absolutely ridiculous.

“Hey, you wanna go patrolling tonight?” She adjusts her apron. “I got a lead on some thugs in Brooklyn who might be thinking about doing some damage.”

“Nah.” America shakes her head but looks a bit wistful. “I promised Teddy I’d go to this concert with him since Billy bailed. You go, though. Kick some bad guy ass.”

“I always do.” Kate smacks America on the nose with her pointer finger, mostly because she knows America _hates_ that but also because she knows America will let her do that.

“And please don’t do something stupid like try to go after that other Hawkeye, okay? I think he runs around with the Avengers.”

“Oh, please.” Kate rolls her eyes. “Do you know that I fought alongside _Captain America_ the other day? Would’ve caught his shield, too, if Danvers hadn’t intervened.”

“Princess,” America punctuates the words by spinning around on her heel, “you are a goddamn show off.”

Kate smiles. “Takes one to know one, Chavez.”

 

* * *

  

The truth of the matter is, Kate really didn’t fight alongside Captain America, though Captain Marvel _had_ intercepted the shield that came out of nowhere while Kate was wrestling with some strange mutant who wanted to claw her eyes out.

 _Definitely too many superheroes_ , she thinks while grabbing her bow from the storage unit of the diner’s backroom, having changed from her work outfit into more appropriate clothing. She slips out the back door of the kitchen, and no one bothers to pay the purple-suited dark-haired girl much attention when they're busy cooking hamburgers and potatoes. Kate hurries along the darkened sidewalks until she’s put enough distance between herself and work to put on her quiver.

And her sunglasses, for good measure.

 _Doesn’t even have sunglasses_ , Kate thinks to herself as she heads towards the abandoned lot where she’s hidden the car she usually drives; her car is about as falling apart as most of the things in her life that aren’t her fighting skills are, but she could care less. It was a hand-me-down, and she was just happy to have any kind of transportation at all. As long as her bow could function, that was enough to keep her satisfied.

Kate blasts Taylor Swift as she drives through the recesses of Lower Manhattan and into Brooklyn, parking a few blocks away from where she had listened in on the call that had allowed her to pick up information on the thugs that were planning to have a good time tonight. _Well, they’d be having a good time until Kate Hawkeye Bishop showed up_ , she thinks to herself as she slings her bow over her shoulder and shimmies up the fire escape of the building. The top of the roof is deserted and she smiles, taking an arrow, walking to the edge and leaning over while trying to assess which way her targets will be approaching.

 _Left_ , she realizes after after a few moments, when she sees a shadowy figure in a tracksuit walking down the street. She releases her arrow and it’s only after she does so that she realizes the man has gone down with barely a noise, disappearing from view, another arrow sticking out from his chest.

“What the hell?!”

She whirls around to meet a man clothed in purple, similar to how she’s dressed. Unlike her sleek costume, however, his is somewhat more flamboyant, with brighter colors and a sleeveless vest that shows off his arms (that Kate is actively trying _not_ to look at, thank you very much). His trademark cowl is branded with a large “H,” though Kate wouldn’t have needed the reminder, anyway.

“Well, I’m impressed.”

“What -- were you _following_ me?”

“I could ask the same about you,” he says, motioning to her bow. “That call you listened in on was mine, not some Young Avengers emergency.”

Kate narrows her eyes, raising her bow again, and the man does the same, meeting her draw in an exact mirror.

“I don’t think you want to do that,” he says conversationally, one side of his mouth lifting in a half-grin. “You know who I am.”

“Of course I know who you are,” Kate spits out, not lowering her bow. “You’re Hawkeye.”

“And so are you. We’re exactly the same.”

“We are  _not_ exactly the same,” Kate corrects sharply. “I’m a girl. And quite frankly, I have better aim.”

The other Hawkeye scoffs. “Prove it.”

Kate has half a mind to shoot the arrow she can feel her fingers itching to release, the one that’s pointed at his skull, but decides better of it and whirls around, focusing on a building in the distance. She takes the shot, sending her arrow directly into the center of the other building’s wall instead.

“Pretty good,” the other Hawkeye says approvingly, and Kate bristles.

“ _Pretty_ good?”

“Well, for a Young Avenger.” He lowers his bow in a show of surrender and holds out a hand. “Don’t think I forgot where you came from. Did I mention I’m Hawkeye?”

Kate glares. “I know that.”

Hawkeye’s smile widens. “In reality, I’m Clint. Clint Barton.”

Kate wants to say she’s known _that_ , too, because alter egos weren’t exactly hard to come by if you knew enough about the superhero world. She stays quiet, though, and finally sighs in defeat.

“Kate Bishop. Also Hawkeye. In case you didn’t know,” she adds sarcastically.

“Kate.” He snaps his recurve bow back together, a move that surprises her and catches her off guard. “I work right around here. Wanna ditch these thugs and grab a drink?”

And Kate shouldn’t, she _knows_ she shouldn’t. But Kate’s also never been very good at turning down things that are offered to her for free, even after coming from a life where that happened frequently -- and even if they’re being offered to her by someone she considers her rival in every single way.

So naturally, she ignores the warning bells blasting through her brain and follows Clint Barton off the roof.

 

* * *

 

“You moonlight in a bar?” Kate asks when he brings her to what looks like an old and rundown establishment and Clint shrugs, unlocking the back door and ushering her inside.

“Beats working in a grocery store. Or sitting at home not making any money at all. Where do _you_ moonlight at, if you don’t mind me asking? _Hawkeye_?”

Kate grits her teeth as he sneers the last word. “The diner. A 50’s diner,” she hedges finally as Clint’s eyebrows go up. “Over in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“50’s diner, huh? Groovy.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Kate says, walking in as Clint closes the door behind her. “You did _not_ just use the word ‘groovy.’ I know your uniform doesn’t exactly reflect it, but it’s 2015.”

Clint doesn’t answer and Kate sighs as she comes to a stop in the middle of the room. Clint flicks on the light and Kate lets her eyes adjust as he stashes his bow in a corner, alongside boxes of unopened beer. There are the usual items that accompany a storage room, a small bathroom with a sink outside and a water cooler and a tiny desk piled high with papers and folders. There are also two posters that depict _The Amazing Hawkeye_ , one over the door and one near the shelves, and Kate can’t help herself from laughing openly when she sees them.

“Jesus Christ,” she mutters. “Talk about being full of yourself.” She turns away as he starts to change, even though he’s mostly hidden behind shadows and shelves anyway, stopping in front of the one over the door. The poster is faded and dirty and doesn’t look quite like Clint -- doesn’t have the trademark cowl -- but Kate knows as well as anyone how different people can look when it comes to propaganda in their line of work.

“That’s you?”

Clint glances up. “No,” he says idly, before going back to changing. “That’s my brother,” and when Kate turns around and looks at the poster more closely, she feels like she’s going to lose it. Then, she does.

“ _Are you kidding me?_ ”

Clint raises an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of my brother?”

“Anyone with half a _brain_ has heard of your brother,” Kate says grumpily, flinging her hands around. “He’s freaking _Ronin_.”

“Yeah, I know,” Clint answers as he emerges from behind the shelves, having changed into a pair of ratty jeans and a purple tee-shirt, and from the look on his face, Kate can see that he’s enjoying this way too much. “Took over that mantle from me, actually.”

Kate feels her mouth drop wide open in a reaction that she can’t control, because, yeah, there were some things that you just didn’t learn in History of Superheroes 101.

“ _What_?”

“Used to be Ronin, before I was Hawkeye,” he says with a wink. “Pretty good change, right?”

“Unbelievable,” Kate mutters, pushing a hand through her hair. America was never going to let her hear the end of this. She tries to figure out what to say next, and that’s when Clint opens his mouth again.

“Hey, you wanna meet him?”

 

* * *

 

 This is how Kate Bishop, current other better Hawkeye, meets Barney Barton, former Hawkeye, current codename Ronin: over three dollar beers at Clint’s apartment.

And hell if the first thing she doesn’t think upon setting eyes on Clint’s brother is that he’s pretty damn good looking. Whatever the Bartons had been fed as children, well, Kate knows that kind of formula doesn’t exactly crop up too often. Iron Man was a manufactured kind of attractive and Captain America was as well; Thor was a literal God so all bets were off there. But despite their scars and wounds and messy hair, both Clint and Barney have a cheeky, down-to-earth, ruggedly handsome look that Kate knows means she’s pretty much doomed if she ever drinks too much.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting in my rival’s apartment, having a beer with him and his superhero villain brother.”

“He’s not your rival. And I’m not a villain,” Barney says, though his face looks a little more hardened than Clint’s does upon closer inspection. “I’m a thief.”

“Barney thinks of himself like Robin Hood,” Clint explains, handing Kate a beer. “Steal from the rich, give to the poor, chase bad guys. That sort of thing.”

“But you _were_ a bad guy,” Kate says because she may look like a spoiled brat’s daughter, but damned if she doesn't know her history when it came to what she did for a living.

“I guess,” Barney says with a shrug. “Little brother here got the skills, back in our circus days, but I learned from the best. We made quite a team once upon a time.”

“Yeah, I kind of know,” Kate mutters, taking a drink. “Not like you guys weren’t notorious or anything.”

“Hear that, Barn?” Clint grins. “We were notorious.”

“You have posters of yourselves,” Kate points out and Clint looks a little surprised, but nods.

“Yeah, we do. Not every day you get that.” He leans backwards, pressing his hips against the counter. “Gotta embrace the admiration. Usually, they want Iron Man or Cap on their walls.”

“It’s just the shiny shield. Bet you ten bucks Cap couldn’t shoot a bow if he tried,” Barney says, before jerking his finger in Kate’s direction. “This one, on the other hand, seems like she could give us a run for our money.”

“Hang on.” Kate sits back and then pauses to grab her beer, because it’s suddenly all too much. “Ronin -- the great Ronin -- is saying I’m good at what I do?”

“Aren’t you?” Clint asks with an eyebrow raise. “You’ve been spying on me and taking half my gigs as it is. Don’t think I haven’t been spying on you as well.”

“Perfect,” Kate mutters. “And what have _you_ been doing?” She turns her attention to Barney. “How come no one ever sees you except when you’re making headlines by stealing?”

“I dunno. I like to keep myself out of the spotlight,” Barney replies, apparently undeterred by Kate’s interrogation. “I’ve also learned that I work better when no one’s bothering me.” He smiles crookedly and something catches in Kate’s throat but she ignores it, drinking more beer to quell the feeling.

“Maybe Kate should come patrolling with us,” Barney adds suddenly, glancing over at his brother, and Kate very nearly spits beer back out of her mouth.

“ _What_?”

“Oh, I’m sorry...is that allowed in Young Avenger world?” Clint’s got a look so smug that Kate thinks she wants to punch him. Or possibly make out with him. Right now, she can’t decide, and that bothers her.

“I can hang out with whoever I want,” she says when she finds her voice, recovering and silently complimenting herself for not spewing beer all over her two companions. “Give me a bow and some bad guys, and I’m _there_.”

Barney raises an eyebrow and his bottle, and Kate clinks back a little too hard.

 

* * *

  

Kate spends a lot of time with Clint, at first.

It’s terrible, except it’s not.

Before Clint, the only other person she had taken to almost instantly was America, and then America had become her best friend. She’s not quite sure what it is about Clint that makes her fall so hard and so fast, but in addition to being attracted to her former rival, Kate also finds herself becoming more and more comfortable with him. She opens up about her life, her feelings, even mundane things like her food preferences. In return, she soon learns how Clint likes his coffee (black, except when he’s not patrolling, then he’s a fancy espresso kind of guy), what music he likes to listen to in the car (mostly stupid pop songs and popular radio songs but also the occasional Broadway show tune), and what his favorite outfit to patrol in is when he’s not wearing his costume (jeans and a ratty tee purple tee-shirt with a bullseye on it.)

She falls in love with him as a friend the first time he lets her mess up his hair for no reason, he falls in love with her as a friend the first time she stands her ground and tells him off for missing a dinner with his ex. (Or so he claims.) And sometimes, Barney’s around, and she thinks maybe Barney feels a little strange when he sees how close Kate and Clint have become over such a short period of time, because she knows it’s gotten to the point where they can’t seem to stop talking even when they’re on the job. And so she starts trying to involve Clint’s brother in their lives a little more, just because.

And then, somehow, Kate ends up not only spending time with the one person who she never thought she would want to spend time with, but also his idiotic, too-attractive, superhero-villain brother. Because Clint’s an Avenger and because his brother is Ronin, and because by default the Avengers get the better superhero calls, she finds herself going out with Clint more than frequently and fighting alongside him more than usual _._ (Alongside his idiotic, too-attractive, superhero-villain brother.) Kate tries to play it cool and spend just as much time with her own group of friends, but she’s not dumb. She knows that her newfound hobby doesn’t go unnoticed, and she can’t decide whether to be proud or hate herself.

“I can’t believe you hang out with your rival now,” says America, her voice dripping with disdain. Kate purses her lips.

“Technically, _he_ hangs out with _me_.”

“Right.” America rolls her eyes. “Because who would willingly hang out with someone who wears a costume like _that_?”

“Lots of people,” Kate defends, unsure why she feels so protective of someone she had previously spent so many months hating on and grumbling about. “Captain America, one time.”

“That’s because he’s an Avenger and he doesn’t have a choice,” America says, putting her chin in her hands. “Besides, I thought you said the world wasn’t big enough for two Hawkeyes.”

“It’s not,” Kate says with a small grin. “But tell you a secret: there aren’t really two Hawkeyes anymore.” _There’s three_ , she thinks, though she knows she won’t tell her best friend that part. Not yet, at least. America raises her eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

Kate smirks. “You’ll see,” she says conversationally as she moves to the coffee maker, ignoring America’s narrowed eyes.

“You really are a pain in the ass, you know that?”

Kate grins. “Takes one to know one, Chavez. That’s the perk of being a _Hawkeye_.”

 

* * *

  

The first time Kate notices something’s wrong is when Barney calls out a shot for her, and she misses.

Kate never misses. But Barney’s grinning at her with that cocky smile and Clint’s shooting next to him and suddenly, all the precision has left Kate’s body, and she uncharacteristically misses the shot set up for her.

“Down five!” Barney yells gleefully, because apparently, at some point, the two have started keeping track of their conquests on a stupid yellow post-it note that they keep tacked to the front of Clint’s fridge. It was the most childish game Kate could think of, and yet, that seemed to be par for the course with the two brothers. Patrolling with Barney and Clint was the most amazing thing in the world for an adrenaline, always-searching-for-the-next-big-thing person like Kate, but it was also frustrating, because Clint and Barney were, well...Clint and Barney.

And Kate gets it, kind of. Between America and Cassie, she knows she’s had her fair share of times where she’s made the other Young Avengers roll their eyes. But for as close and Kate and Clint have become, Clint and Barney are on somewhat of a different level. Their inside jokes are not only strange and confusing (and Kate is constantly annoyed at the things she obviously doesn’t get when they talk) but their confidence is another story altogether. From what Kate had learned about Clint, she already knew that he had an insane amount of bravado mixed with a hint of arrogance. Putting him with his brother, however, seems to make it ten times worse.

And then there’s the _actual_ matter of attraction. For one thing, as much as she’s let her eyes look at little too much at America’s short skirts, she’s never actually stared at America the way she finds herself staring at Clint and Barney when they patrol together. And although she’s been technically watching Clint for months, she suddenly finds herself paying a little too much attention to the way his shoulders move when he takes a shot, the way his mouth tightens in concentration, and the way his fingers flex on around his bowstring.

So, yeah. Patrolling with two Hawkeyes, great. Constantly feeling like she wants to orgasm every time either of them make a shot, not so much.

“I’m attracted to him,” Kate admits miserably, head shoved into her arms, when she knows she can’t hide it anymore. America hums while counting change from the cash register.

“I’m just curious, does that count as like, an incest thing? Being attracted to someone who shares the same name as you?”

“Not even him,” Kate says with a groan, pushing herself up on her elbows. “That happened awhile ago. I was already there. Now it’s the _other_ Hawkeye. Ronin.”

America looks up with a start. “Ronin?” She stares, her eyes widening. “Wait, wait. _Ronin_ is Hawkeye’s brother?”

“Well, technically, Hawkeye was Ronin first,” Kate says almost immediately. “And then when he took the mantle --”

“Oh my god,” America mutters, shoving a hand across her mouth to stop her laughter. “You really _are_ into these two.”

“Shut up,” Kate says, feeling her face flush, and America hums again.

“So, hang on. If this Clint Barton guy was Ronin first, doesn’t that mean his brother’s name was probably Hawkeye at one point, too?”

Kate’s been avoiding her friend’s eyes but snaps her head up at that, and when she finds America grinning at her, she knows she’s screwed.

“Fuck you.”

America shrugs, still grinning. “From what you’ve told me, I don’t think I’m the one you want to fuck, princess.”

 

* * *

 

The first time Kate spends the night with Clint and Barney, it’s by accident.

It’s a normal patrolling night, until a stray shot by a thug, who has no idea how to use a gun, gets Kate in the leg and taken her out of commission. It’s not a serious wound, but it’s a bullet graze that’s bad enough to tear through the skin, sending her to the ground where she lies helplessly until Barney and Clint are done with the job and can assess her injury.

“I’m fine,” she protests as Clint helps drag her back down the street and then into his apartment, and Barney snorts.

“You sound like my brother. Clint, how many times did I have to set your fingers without anyone knowing when we were in the circus?”

“Five or six,” Clint says as he fluffs up a pillow on the couch and points. Kate stands by the door, leaning against the frame, and manages to glare through her pain.

“Oh, no,” she says, keeping her voice firm. “If you think I’m sleeping here, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“No one is sleeping here  _with_ you,” Clint says with a sigh. “We’re not that shady. But trust me, you’ll definitely be more comfortable if you can rest and let us take care of you, with that leg.”

“My leg is fine,” Kate repeats, though she can’t help from wincing when she tries to put weight on it, almost falling over again. “Dammit.”

“You were saying?” Barney asks. His face is covered in dirt and he needs a shower, and Kate can’t help but think that she wishes she weren’t hurt right now, because she would definitely help him with that.

_Control yourself, Bishop. Now you’re just getting sloppy._

“Ugh, fine, I’ll take the couch,” Kate relents, hobbling towards the furniture with Clint’s help. The blood is already soaking through the hastily wrapped bandage, but she figures if she can get some painkillers in her system and pass out for a few hours, she can survive the worst of it. “Just make sure I don’t die.”

“There’s a headline for the Daily News: Hawkeye killed by other Hawkeye and Ronin,” Clint says with a small smile. Kate closes her eyes.

“Please stop. You’re embarrassing me.”

Clint barks out a laugh. “That’s a compliment, coming from you, Katie-Kate.” He drags his shirt over his head and Kate opens her eyes just in time to see his exposed bare back, the bruised skin and light sprinkle of scars over his spine, the way his skin stretches over his broad shoulders, hardened by what Kate knows are years of carrying a quiver and shooting arrows. She fights the chill that shoots through her body.

 _Goddamn Barton brothers_.

“Coffee?” Kate asks after a moment and Clint looks at her in surprise, almost as if she’s forgotten she’s there.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, rubbing the top of his head. “Barney’ll get it for you, if that’s okay.”

Kate nods, falling back on the pillows as he walks away, closing her eyes again as her leg starts throbbing. She lies completely still, trying to control her breathing, and then flinches when a hand connects with her shoulder, causing her to jerk forward.

“Easy. It’s just me.” Barney’s sitting down and holding a cup towards her. “I believe you put in a request for caffeine?”

Kate grins, taking the mug from his outstretched hand. “That was like, four seconds. I’m impressed.” She pauses to take a sip, drinking steadily despite the burning liquid. “Guess there’s good service at the Barton residence. Way better service than my diner. Though, America can handle a lot of tables at once, which helps.”

“America.” Barney frowns. “America Chavez, the portal queen?”

“Yeah. My co-worker,” Kate says with a wave of her hand. “And best friend, and sometimes patrolling partner, though apparently both of _you_ have taken on that mantle lately.” When Barney grins at that, showing semi-bloodstained teeth set against a scruffy face, Kate feels her insides twist together. She reaches out before she knows what she’s doing, a move that’s slightly off-kilter due to her bum leg, and grabs Barney the neck, pulling him down into a kiss. The mug, still filled with coffee, tilts and liquid sloshes over the side and onto her clothes as he tumbles down onto her, meeting her lips easily. They both stay there until she pulls away in the same sudden manner.

“I’m not entirely sure this is legal,” Barney says, and his voice sounds strangled but he looks a little intrigued. Kate bristles, putting the mug on the floor, deciding not to feel bad about spilling half of her drink all over someone else’s couch. Clint’s apartment wasn’t exactly the definition of spotless, anyway.

“I’m not a child. And what, you think your brother won’t approve or something?”

“Nah.” Barney grins again. “My brother would probably ask if we want company. I mean, he’s always the one who’s gotten the girls in the first place.”

Kate raises an eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true. Especially when he first became Ronin. I mean, man...people didn’t know him, just the guy behind the mask, but hell if he wasn’t charming. Even when he was doing terrible things.” Barney has moved closer, and is now practically lying next to her. He hasn’t changed yet, and Kate can still smell his sweat and the coppery scent of dried blood.

“You and your brother seem close.”

Barney laughs shortly. “Yeah,” he says after a moment. “We are, I guess. Spent a lot of years getting to that point, though. I’m surprised he still talks to me after I basically fell off the grid.”

Kate frowns slightly. “He forgives people. That’s normal, for superheroes. For people like us.”

“He forgives people he cares about, even if they hurt him,” Barney corrects a little bitterly. “Dunno how _normal_ that is, but that’s Clint. That’s my little brother.”

Kate falls silent in the aftermath of Barney’s words. She’s never had a sibling, America was the closest thing she’d had to one until, laughably, Clint came into the picture, and sometimes Kate thinks she’d consider Clint more like a brother than a crush -- for all that she was attracted to him, she also knew how fiercely protective he was of the people he loved, and she had found herself recently included in that circle.

“Speaking of close,” Barney continues as he inclines his head, and Kate stares at him for a good minute before laughing when she realizes what he means. “I’ve seen the looks you guys give each other in the field. It’s like me and him. But it’s not.”

Kate looks down, feeling her face flush. “I don’t know how that happened,” she admits. “Three months ago, I would’ve drawn skulls on his posters and told everyone he was a terrible shot. Now, I find myself running into the street if he disappears without telling me where he’s going. I’m not...I’m not used to that.” _I’m not used to falling for someone like this, as a friend or something more_ , she thinks, as Barney reaches over and grabs her hand.

“Hey, it’s okay, you know.” He laces their fingers together. “To want to be close to him. A little disconcerting, maybe, I mean, he’s kind of a mess and doesn’t latch onto people that easily or open up, and he’s kind of a stubborn bastard --”

He’s cut off when Kate leans over to kiss him again, surprising even herself this time with how forward she’s being.

“Fuck,” Barney mutters into her mouth as Kate kisses him more deeply. Truth be told, it’s at least taking her mind off her injury.

“Why?” He asks again when she comes up for air and Kate shakes her head, breathing steadily through her nose.

“I don’t know. But I’ve always had a thing for bad boys.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning, after Kate has fallen asleep ( _alone_ , thank you very much) and then woken up and hobbled into the kitchen on a still painful leg, Clint’s the first person she sees, sitting at the bar counter with a large mug in his hand. Barney is nowhere in sight, but Clint doesn’t bother beat around the bush -- and in a way, Kate’s not surprised.

“So. I heard you kissed my brother.”

 _Still._ Kate shoves her hands against her temples. “I haven’t had enough coffee for this.”

“Me, neither,” Clint admits, drinking faster from his cup. He gets up slowly, stretching his legs, and it’s only then that Kate realizes he’s mostly naked, save for socks and boxers. She tries not to stare too much as he moves, her eyes mapping the parts of his body where she knows the bruises are the most prominent, the broad archer shoulders that make her want to squirm.

“So, are you guys...you know…”

The look on his face is almost comical, but at the same time, she feels like she can’t laugh, because the situation is so insane she has no idea how to respond.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I mean, yes. Maybe? Fuck, Clint. I don’t even know.”

Clint remains silent, pouring coffee from an overfilled pot and handing her a fresh mug. “My brother gets around.”

“So do you,” Kate points out because she can’t help it, and Clint grimaces.

“Yeah, well.” He gulps down another swallow of coffee. “Giving that up probably. Turning over a new leaf. Like Ronin 2.0.”

“Oh, really?” She raises an eyebrow. “So you’re going to give the title of womanizer to someone else, too?”

“I don’t womanize!” Clint answers haughtily. “I just...I get drunk. Sometimes. And I make bad decisions. Sometimes.” As if realizing what he’s admitted, he suddenly groans to himself, sinking down in the chair next to her. “Jesus, I’m a mess.”

Kate finds herself reaching over and stroking his hair without thinking. “You are," she says after a moment. "But so am I. Your brother, also. We’re like The Three Stooges of messes. But more coordinated,” she adds, hiding a grin as Clint lifts his head.

“I’m also pretty sure this is the strangest relationship I’ve ever had. And I don’t think I’m even in it.”

“Oh, you are,” Kate teases. “I mean, I basically have a panic attack whenever I think about you going off and doing something stupid I don’t know about. And besides, I can’t exactly send you back out there as my rival and forget about you now that I know your secret love of Broadway, can I?”

Clint raises his head and Kate grins, punching him lightly in the arm.

 

* * *

  

After another month of working together, Kate and Barney and Clint fall into a comfortable ease, as if they’ve known each other their whole lives.

They take on jobs that they get offered, and sometimes, jobs that they don’t even know until they stumble upon them; they work swiftly and easily and Kate finds herself enjoying being Hawkeye more than ever, despite sharing the name, despite the fact when people call them out on the street, she never knows who they’re really asking for.

Kate convinces Clint that the cowl is an absolutely terrible fashion statement, not to mention a hinderance when they're on the job, and eventually Clint stops wearing it, and he never tells Kate thank you but Kate always sees the sentiment when he turns to her in the field and shares a smile.

Barney and Clint come by the diner on occasion and America serves them pie and coffee and fries loaded with cheese, and after awhile, she stops ribbing Kate about _those brothers_ , sharing their fries and jokes on late nights when all the patrons have gone home and the kitchen is dark.

Kate stays at Clint’s apartment more frequently; she makes Barney burned grilled cheese and figures out how to make Clint his fancy espresso with the machine Barney's stolen from an unsuspecting neighbor. When they’re not patrolling, they throw darts at the wall while Barney makes marks on the post-it notes that now litter the front of the fridge, they watch bad reality television and drink beer and laugh at each other’s jokes, while Kate lies with her head in Clint’s lap and Barney strokes her hair.

Barney’s supposed to leave after a few days, because, as Clint explains, that’s what he normally does in this kind of situation.

(Barney doesn’t leave.)

“I’m not sure the world is big enough for two Hawkeyes,” he muses one night as they’re waiting for their target to appear, sitting on the roof with their legs swinging over the side and passing a drink between them. Kate hums to herself.

“It isn’t.” She stares out over the buildings while Clint examines an arrow next to her, fingerless gloved hands working their way over the shaft. “But there aren't two Hawkeyes anymore.”

(Later, arrows fly and Clint yells and Barney takes a moment to grin at her, and Kate smiles back.)


End file.
